grey raincoats and brown felt hats and fine shoes. She wore a heavy tweed skirt and thick woollen socks. The man wore a dark blue suit.
Their pale, hard eyes scanned the platform and fastened on Mr Donald the station-master. The woman took a step towards him. âExcuse me,â she said, and her voice was odd. Foreign.
Mr Donald gripped the lapels of his uniform and said, âYes, madam?â
âTell me, porter, what is the name of this station?â
Mr Donald was a short man but he stretched as tall as he could and said, âI am not a porter, madam. I am the station-
master
. And the names of all stations have been removed. Then if a German spy arrivesâ¦â he said very slowly, âthey will not know where they are.â
The man stepped forward. He had an accent just like the woman. âWhat a wonderful idea. Those German spies must be defeated. No?â
âNoâ¦I mean, yes,â station-master Donald said.
âWe came here to Forres for a walking holiday,â the man said. âNow we take the train to London.â
âThis is not Forres,â Mr Donald said. âThis is â â
âLossiemouth,â I said quickly. I met the eyes of Mr Donald and those eyes seemed to say, âThank you.â He had almost given us away.
âWe got a little lost,â the woman said.
But Forres was 25 miles away. Jamie spoke from the side of his mouth. âThey didnât walk here. A German submarine or seaplane dropped them off. They were rowed ashore in a boat.â
âYou read that stuff in
The Wizard
comic,â I hissed. âYou think Miss McLennan is a Russian spy and youâre the Wolf of Kabul.â
He looked worried. âThis is serious, sis.â
âYou canât accuse people of being spies without any proof,â I said.
âBut I do have proof,â he murmured. âLook at the bottom of the manâs trouser legs.â
Â
Chapter 4
Butcher and baker
âTheyâre wet,â I said quietly.
âThey areâ¦and itâs a dry day,â he muttered. âLook just below the knees where the water has started to dry.â
âThereâs a ring of white,â I said and started to understand. Jamie may be a clever detective but Iâm not stupid. âWet with salt waterâ¦sea water.â
Jamie gave a small smile. âTheyâve stepped out of the sea. The womanâs shoes are covered in salt too. A submarine or a seaplane put them in a rowing boat. They rowed to the beach but had to jump into the water and walk the last few yards when the boat hit the bottom.â
âBut they werenât sure where theyâd landed so they had to ask,â I said. âSpies.â I leaned closer to my brother and whispered, âWhat are we going to do?â
âRun and get the Home Guard and the police,â he said.
I turned and raced through the entrance to the station. I sped along Station Road and turned into the High Street. As I reached the little police box I saw Constable Grieve coming out. I snatched at his sleeve and babbled my story. ââ¦and the express leaves at ten.â
If Constable Grieve had ever done any running it had been thirty years ago. But now he shuffled into a trot like a rhino and still found enough breath to blow his whistle. âHome Guardâ¦bring your riflesâ¦get to the stationâ¦German spiesâ¦â
Mr McKenzie the grocer said, âIâll just get my uniform on.â
âNo time,â I said. âTheyâll be on the express train at ten. Just bring your rifle.â
He vanished into the shop and came out a moment later, running up Station Road in his white apron. He was joined by Mr Mackay the butcher in his navy apron with white stripes and crimson blood, and Mr Bell the Baker, who always sounded like a man on a
Happy Families
card to me.
We could see the express steaming along the coast line. The men struggled